Not the Right Weasley
by Muggle Jane
Summary: Things aren't going well with Ron, but maybe there's another Weasley for Hermione Granger. Oneshot fluff, EWE.


**A/N: Characters aren't mine, no money being made, etc.**

The front door opened and shut and I knew Ron was home from work. I heard him move through the foyer; keys went on the side table, shoes came off, and then he came into the dining room where I was. I turned my cheek up for his kiss without really looking away from the papers fanned on the table in front of me. "How was work?" I asked automatically.

"Good," he replied briefly, without any real enthusiasm. The lack of enthusiasm wasn't for his job. He loved being an auror. "Did you eat?"

Of course I ate, he knew it too. I nodded. "There's a plate warming in the oven for you." As there was every night, except for the monthly dinner at The Burrow. Or on the weekends when I went into work at the Ministry and he threw something together for himself.

Later, we were side-by-side in bed, me tucked under the covers with a book and him lounged on top with a magazine. I heard him inhale like he was going to say something, and then nothing came out. The same happened two or three more times until I finally asked, "What is it, Ron?" I made sure my tone wasn't at all hostile.

"Why can't we just... Bloody hell, Mione, you're going to think it's stupid."

I rested my book on my lap and turned to look at him. He looked like he was was trying his best to hide behind his magazine. "Out with it, then," I said, gently. I had a suspicion I knew what he was going to say.

"Can't we go back to the way it was? Before, I mean."

I felt... Nothing. Maybe a little bit of relief. "I'd really like that," I said softly.

"D'you mean that?" he asked in that, I'm trying not to be too excited, way of his, daring to look out from the glossy pages at me.

I nodded. "How did we let it get this far?" I asked.

"Mum," he replied with a shrug and I had to nod again. Mrs. Weasley was determined that I was going to be her daughter-in-law. Ron and I had shared a few kisses and were caught up in the exhilaration of all of the post-war good feelings that we went along with it. A few months into it, when everything started to settle down, I- both of us, I guess- started to realize that the sex was nice, but that was it. The kisses got briefer until they were just pecks on the cheek, like the one he'd given me when he came home from work. Without the tension of the war and being on the run, and everything else, there was just no chemistry. We were best friends who were flatmates and shared a bed. Well, lately, not even that. The lack of relationship in our relationship had put a strain on our friendship.

"She's going to be so disappointed," I said and had another sigh. "Are you going to write her?"

"I guess I better. At least there's a couple of weeks before the family dinner, maybe she'll get over it."

"I doubt it." I leaned my head against his shoulder. I felt really bad about disappointing Mrs. Weasley, but I couldn't stay in a relationship with someone for someone else.

"Should I sleep on the couch?"

"Do you want to? We've been sharing a platonic bed for months now." And there it was, out in the open. Strangely, I felt closer to him than I had in quite some time.

"I guess not. One of us should probably move out, though."

"I'll move," I replied quickly. "I have more time to look for flats."

I felt him kiss the top of my head. "Love you, Mione."

"I love you too, Ron." And I did, with all of my heart. Just not the way Molly Weasley wanted me to.

She didn't take it well. At the next family dinner, she'd taken us aside and asked if there was anything she could do to mend our rift. She didn't seem to believe us when we said there was no rift, we were just better off as friends. For that dinner and the entirety of the next one, every time she looked at us, her eyes would mist up and she'd shake her head sadly.

The next dinner, she made sure I sat next to Charlie. Every time she spoke to me, it was something about how marvelous Charlie was, and how brilliant, and how lovely it was in Romania. There was a good deal of praise for my accomplishments as well, Mrs. Weasley wasn't exactly being subtle.

Under the cover of dinner conversation, he asked me what was going on and I explained everything to him. He'd squeezed my shoulder sympathetically and his mum had latched onto that physical contact with a fierce determination. He didn't make it back to the next two dinners, but it was more of the same- have you heard from Charlie, did Charlie tell you, he's just so brilliant with the dragons...

* * *

Next dinner was Christmas. Ron brought Lavender Brown and Mrs. Weasley kept giving her dirty looks and then looking at me as though it was all my fault.

Directly after a very uncomfortable dinner, for me, anyway, I slipped out to the garden. I'd be expected to stay until late that evening, but I needed a break. It started to snow and I clutched my cloak around me, grateful for the muffled hush found under the cover of the falling white flakes.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," I heard from behind me.

I turned to the intruder and had to smile. "Happy Christmas, George." I'd hardly had a chance to talk to him, because of course Charlie was back to visit and between the dirty looks over Lavender and the eager pushing together of Charlie and I, I hadn't really had a chance to visit with anyone else.

"Bit nippy," he said, coming to stand beside me. He was taller than me, of course, and bundled up in his own cloak.

"Well, it _is_ snowing," I replied. "And it's a lot-"

"-Quieter," he finished for me. "Yeah. Mum's been on at me about marriage and grandkids and the lot, too. Lucky for me, there's no one here for her to push me at."

I flashed him a commiserating smile. "How's business?"

"Good," he replied, and I could tell how much he loved it by his tone in that one word. "How's the Ministry?"

"I'm sure _you'd_ find it boring," I said with a grin, "but I'm quite loving it."

"What was it Won-Won said you were doing, again?"

I had to laugh. "She doesn't call him that anymore, thank heavens. I'm in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"That is a mouthful. It does sound delightfully boring! Are you remembering to get out to have actual fun?"

I laughed again but I was prevented from answering by Molly Weasley's voice calling from the door, "George? Is Hermione out there with you?"

"I'm here," I called to her.

"You two better come back inside, you'll catch your death!" she yelled at us and I frowned. It wasn't that chilly, for winter in Devon.

"No hats," George explained quietly. "Coming, Mum!" He offered me his arm and I took it.

"So much for quiet," I muttered to myself, and George patted my hand. "Just come over and sit with Bill and Fleur and me," he advised. "She won't get too close."

Somehow, he neglected to pull his hand back and it stayed there, covering mine. Neither one of us had gloves on, and his skin was warm against mine, despite the chill winter air. It felt surprisingly comfortable, his hand on top of mine. I snuck a look at him. He kept his red hair long now, to hide the missing ear. He was good looking, I found myself thinking, and immediately chastised myself for the thought. It had just been too long since I'd been romantic with anyone.

Mrs. Weasley was waiting at the door for us, holding it open. "Come in, come in," she ushered, and I slipped my hand away to precede George through the door, ducking past his mum.

She clucked and fussed over us for a moment before disappearing back in with the rest of the family.

George helped me with my cloak, pulling it off and hanging it on the hook by the door. "Thanks," I murmured, watching him pull off his own cloak and hang it beside mine.

He was wearing a Weasley jumper, of course, magenta with an F on the front- probably on request. "Come on, then," he said, and we went back into the living room where everyone was gathered. With a hand flat on my back, he steered me over to where Bill and Fleur sat, holding hands.

Bill looked a question at his younger brother. George jerked his head at Charlie, who was chatting with Ginny and Harry, and Bill nodded, a small smile on his lips.

George pulled a chair over for me and I sat down. "Your dress is very lovely," I complimented Fleur. She was wearing some airy French thing. It wasn't my taste, but it looked good on her. Of course, everything seemed to look good on Fleur.

"Thank you!" Fleur replied happily. She looked like she was happy to have someone to talk to besides Bill. I felt a pang of guilt. The Weasley women still hadn't really warmed up to her, and the last time I'd seen her I'd been a little frosty toward her too. And, I strongly suspected, it was thanks to her that Mrs. Weasley hadn't come over with a, "Now why don't you come sit over here," yet.

The four of us sat and chatted for a little while. The evening wore on and people started leaving. Percy left first, which didn't surprise me. That meant I could make my escape. I'd apparated in, and I'd be leaving the same way. I stood up, and George jumped up beside me.

"I think it's time I went home as well," I said to the room at large. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, for a lovely dinner." I did a round of hugs and kisses and George said he'd walk me out. It always takes some time between announcing your intention to leave and actually leaving The Burrow, and George and I stood in the doorway to the kitchen, saying more goodbyes and laughing and chatting.

"Oi," Ron said suddenly and pointed above our heads. We looked up. There was a sprig of green leaves in the doorway above us. I shot Ron an exasperated look.

"Come on, now, it's tradition," Charlie teased.

I turned toward George and looked up into his face, and there was a twinkle in his brown eyes. "They're not going to let us leave until we do," I murmured to him.

In response, he leaned down and touched his lips to mine. It started out as a gentle kiss, chaste even, but when he didn't straighten away from me, my fingers curled in the front of his slightly scratchy sweater and my mouth opened under his. His tongue flicked against mine and I realized that we were still in the living room of The Burrow and his parents were _right over there_.

I pulled away first. Opening my eyes, I saw his slightly bemused expression. I looked away, into the living room, and said one final goodbye. Mrs. Weasley was positively beaming.

George followed me through the kitchen to where our cloaks were hanging and, without a word, took mine off the hook and slipped it over my shoulders. I waited for him to get his cloak on as well and we left the house together.

It was still snowing and a few centimeters had accumulated on the ground. Our feet crunched through the fresh snow as we walked through the garden and out the back gate. I hesitated, not wanting to go just yet. What should I say? Was there anything to say?

He caught my hand and I turned to face him. He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss across my bare knuckles. "Happy Christmas, Hermione," he said. He squeezed my fingers and then he released me and he was gone with a pop.

"Happy Christmas, George," I whispered into the falling snow.


End file.
